My Bloody Valentine
by HeathenVampires
Summary: When Famine said he was dead inside, it wasn't because Dean craved nothing. It was because what he did want, had wanted for so long, was killing him. Wincest prompt!


**It's been a while since I did a Wincest! But my buddy asked me to do a 'My Bloody Valentine' one, where Dean's not immune to the 'craving' completely, but nobody but he knows. Obviously. This starts from** ** _after_** **Famine is dealt with, because I really can't be bothered writing it out for a slashy one shot. Enjoy!**

-SPN-

Dean stared into his glass, reflecting on what Famine had said. He wasn't wrong about feeling dead inside, but he was wrong about Dean not being hungry. But he had been fighting the hunger his whole life, he had experience.

How do you stop yourself, when your life has revolved around one person since you were four years old?

All his life had been protect Sammy, keep Sammy safe. Make Sammy happy. And Dean had, he had done each and every thing, from giving up the last of the Lucky Charms to staying awake all night with a shotgun in hand so Sammy could get some sleep. He had let Sammy down once, with that Shtriga, and he hadn't let Sam out of his sight again until he ran off to college really. And even then, he would wait ravenously to hear from their father, who would drive past Stanford to check on Sammy, to hear he was doing good.

He couldn't tell John Winchester, because his dad would just beat him senseless and call him a pervert. So Dean quashed the feelings, buried beneath alcohol and hunting and meaningless hookups with girls. Tall girls, with long hair like Sammy sometimes, or short and curvy girls when Dean realised what he was doing, seeking anything to try and convince himself he wasn't dreaming of his baby brother in all the wrong ways.

Then Famine had to come along, turning his precious Sammy into a demon drinking mess, and making Dean **burn** inside, sick and hurting as he craved Sam. But he had resisted all his life, and this wouldn't break him - they had to save the world. Slicing the ring off Famine's finger did _nothing_ for Dean, though oddly satisfying to see the crippled old man hurry away, and Cas wasn't eating raw meat anymore. Or more bacon cheeseburgers than even Dean could eat in a month.

Listening to Sam scream in the panic room was punishment enough, every atom of Dean wanting to go in and comfort his brother. Then the thoughts would turn to more-than-comfort, and Dean would take another mouthful of cheap alcohol and turn away from Bobby and Cas, terrified his desires were written across his face.

A few days passed and Sam started to 'detox', shaky and sweaty still but it had only been a short spell this time on the blood, so he could be trusted to leave the room this time. After another couple of days, they had a job - a nest of vampires in the next state. Bobby offered to get other hunters on it, but Sam was desperate for distraction and 'to do some good', and Dean was still weak and pathetic and agreed to whatever Sammy wanted.

Sam slept on the drive over, giving Dean time to stare longingly at him and try to clear his head away from prying eyes. It was lucky Sam checked them in to the motel room, because when the middle aged man grunted "king or two queens?" Dean almost answered they only needed one bed. Famine had really done a number on the buried feelings.

Sam dropped his bag on 'his' bed, complained he smelled like the Impala (that was a _bad_ thing?) and disappeared into the bathroom. Needing a distraction from the thought of Sammy naked only a few feet away, Dean left a "out for beer" note next to the salt on the motel table, having done the windows already but he would break a salt line at the door opening it.

Sliding back into the Impala - the other love of his life, really - Dean leant his head against the steering wheel, trying to get a grip on himself in an entirely non-euphemistic manner. Starting the engine and taking a minutes pleasure in the purring motor, Dean drove out looking for a convenience store or gas station. The bored-looking spotty teenager behind the counter looked confused, given Dean's basket was mostly beer, salt and junk food, then bottled water, salad and bananas on the side.

"My uh, brothers a health nut. It sucks."

"Gotcha. Seventeen fifty."

"Oh, I uh, gassed up at pump four."

He paid for the stuff, bagged Sam's healthy nonsense up separately and headed back to the Impala. The motel filled him with happiness and dread, knowing Sammy was in there and Dean didn't know whether he wanted to run away or spend all the time he could close to Sam.

"Salad _and_ fruit? Did I win an award I don't know about?"

"Shut up rabbit boy, we got a job to do."

He glowed inside a little, seeing the surprised smile on his brothers face - for something so simple. Dean resolved to do it more often, if it would produce that expression lighting up Sam's face beautifully.

"So we going tonight?"

"Nah. Daylight, get 'em while the leeches sleep. Eat, drink, be sad it's healthy while I eat chips and drink beer."

Sam nodded, taking a bottle of water and a banana and going to sit on the sofa in front of the trashy little TV in their motel room. Dean suddenly regretted his choice in fruit, because watching Sam slowly unpeel the skin, then raise the banana to his mouth was _torture._

"What's with you? I know you live for bacon cheeseburgers but you have seen a fruit before."

Dean nodded dumbly, not trusting his voice when he could feel his jeans tightening. Cramming beef jerky into his mouth messily, Sam grimaced and turned away in disgust, giving Dean a minute to try and regain control of his body. It didn't work, because when Sam was done eating the torture-fruit, he took a long drink of water, and Dean watched intently as the muscles in his throat worked with each swallow.

That left him no choice but to bolt for the bathroom, fumbling to get his zipper down and turning the shower on to mask the pathetic, whining sounds he made at the first contact of fingers on his sensitive erection. They led to deeper grunts and groans as he neared climax, the never-ending **hunger** Famine had ripped free of every weight hiding it rushing through his veins.

By the time he was coming, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from uttering "Sammy" as his cock jerked and his hips shook, Dean officially hated himself. He rushed through the shower, then pulled a clean pair of jeans and flannel on. When he ventured out, Sam was already asleep, still recovering from the rough detox. Indulging in one sick, twisted moment of looking at his sleeping face, more relaxed than any moment ever they were awake with the apocalypse happening all around them, Dean dropped onto his own bed, ignoring the stray tear that rose as he forced himself to sleep. That was any hunters basic life skill - you had to get sack time whenever you could.

He woke before the six am alarm, unsure why until he heard thrashing nearby. Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, Dean squinted towards Sam's bed. His little brother was tossing about on the bed, face lit dimly by a nearby streetlight to show tension and he was making little pained sounds. Crawling out of bed, tangled in his sheets himself and essentially falling off in the process, Dean ambled over to Sam.

"Wake up Sammy, man up and stop having nightmares."

It took a few shoves to his shoulder ( _hot to the touch and muscular, Dean didn't notice_ ) before Sam bolted upright, shaking and smacking at the hand on his shoulder. Dean backed off, hoping the darkness disguised any off the longing in his face as he wished desperately to climb into bed and comfort Sammy any way he could.

"What the... Dean?"

"You were having a nightmare. Stop it, I'm sleeping."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"You said yes."

That stopped Dean dead, half turned back to his bed. Looking down, he saw the half-lit expression of utter anguish painted over the still-boyish face of his now-a-man baby brother.

"Not gonna happen."

"You did it because I did. Lucifer... doesn't matter. Just a dream right?"

Accepting he wasn't getting back to sleep any time soon, Dean knelt on the bed next to Sam and sighed.

"Well, just make sure you don't say yes. Then we're good."

Sam choked, tugging at Dean's chest in a raw, painful way.

"You don't know what he had over me."

"What can be so bad we haven't dealt before?"

Sam turned away, the streetlight catching his eyes briefly and Dean felt another tug inside when he saw _tears_ in his brothers eyes.

"You don't need to know. I'll deal with it."

"Sammy..."

Dean was failing his little brother right now, because it was Dean's job to kick the ass of whatever **dared** put that sadness in his baby brothers eyes. Nobody had the right to make (his) Sammy sad.

"Tell me."

"No Dean. Go back to sleep, we got that vamp nest to deal with."

He could hear the waver in Sam's voice, finding his body moving without consulting his brain and pulling Sam against his chest, then lying down.

"Uh, Dean? What the hell are you doing?"

"Shut up. You won't talk to me, so I'm gonna fall back on the only other way that ever fixed your nightmares. A big brother hug."

Sam didn't even struggle, and when Dean looked down five minutes later he was out cold. Shaking away the idea he had wanted this as much as Dean, he stole the last couple hours of sleep.

He woke up with Sam's gangly limbs spread out like an octopus, slightly sweaty where their hot skin had been resting against each other in their sleep. And morning wood hard enough to cut glass, thankfully cushioned slightly by a knot of blanket. There were dried tears on Sam's cheeks, but he hadn't appeared to have had any more nightmares, so the sweaty sleep snuggling had served it's purpose. So really, Dean should have moved the second he was awake.

But this was _everything,_ it was perfect and he never wanted to move. He could let the world end around them, just to stay like this. Alas, it was not to be, as the shrill alarm shattered his minute reverie and woke Sam to boot. The warm, firm limbs slid away from Dean as Sam stretched, rubbed his eyes and made a cartoon-like expression of surprise and fell off his bed when he saw Dean next to him.

"Ow."

"Mornin' to you too."

Sam all but bolted into the bathroom, but looked perfectly composed as it was possible to be at six am when he came out. Dean took his turn, wrapping a flannel soaked in icy water to shrink his hard on down to acceptable before he could get his jeans back on. A quick brush and rinse to rid him of morning breath, Dean was ready to find an all night diner for breakfast and slice up some vampires.

Sam picked at a depressing looking short stack of 'wholemeal' pancakes - Dean wasn't totally sure what that meant, except he would not have eaten that whole meal himself. A large coffee and a mountain of bacon, sausage and hot sauce later, Dean had a machete in hand as he and Sam crept into the vampire nest.

Splattered in vamp juice and exhausted, he felt much closer to "normal" after the case, because something about seeing a half dozen vampire heads roll along the floor that made a day better. That was compounded by sending Sam out for burgers while he showered, because Dean's clothes had taken the brunt of vamp-spray.

Full stomach, nest destroyed and hardly any intrusive thoughts about Sam all afternoon - he was having a good day. Apocalypse nearing aside, he supposed. Cracking open a beer and spread-eagling across his bed, Dean saw Sam looking pensive, and he realised his brother hadn't really spoken more than a few words all day.

"Sammy, what's with you? We just sliced up a nest of vamps, you had a salad and I got beer. Smile dude."

He didn't even get an actual answer, Sam just grunted and popped open his own alcohol, then bent over a book on god-knows-what. He knew _something_ was bothering Sam - aside from Lucifer, the recent demon blood and his usual melancholy that was - but he didn't know what. Given his own secrets, Dean could hardly take the high ground on 'sharing'.

The awkward silence continued all afternoon - they had another night in the motel paid for, so Dean figured a good nights sleep before they moved on was in order. And it wouldn't hurt to check there were no more vampire-related murders in the morning.

The tension was palpable, silence still reigning as they hit the lights and went to bed. It weighed on him, kept him awake for hours and utterly defeating his intention for staying the night. Tossing and turning did nothing except serve to irritate him further, but then he heard it.

"Dean."

He flicked his eyes over, but he knew from the breathing sounds that Sam had fallen asleep a couple of hours ago by now. So either he had the sneakiest wakeup ever, or he was dreaming about Dean. He kept repeating it, quiet and breathy and Sam was shifting as he said it. Selfishly hoping he could get away with one more late-night sleepy hug before reality clawed it's way back to them, Dean padded over to Sam's bed.

"Sammy, you gotta stop with these nightmares."

Up close, he could see Sam was lying on his back, one hand up near his pillow - close to his gun, hunter instincts and all. The other was beneath the covers, and if Dean didn't know better by the way Sam was shifting about, he would say his hand was pressed against his groin, pressure to grind up against as he breathed Dean's name.

But that was wishful thinking at best, perverse and wrong at worst. And Dean should back away, because logic was not slowing his filling cock any as he pictured beneath the blanket, layers vanishing and Sam's hand wrapped around his...

"Dean?"

Apparently he had been staring down low for too long, because the question in Sam's voice that pulled his eyes up led him to eye contact - Sam was awake. Ice crawled down his spine as Sam's eyes slid down his body, boxers tented as he was watching Sam. There was no denying that, not really.

"I uh... thought you were having another nightmare. Night Sammy."

He made to leave, but Sam stretched his gangly arm out and grabbed his wrist, looking up at him with dark eyes.

"Dean... I'll tell you. What Lucifer said. In my dream, I mean."

Interest piqued, Dean turned (awkwardly) and sat on the side of Sam's bed, looking at him expectantly.

"Ok. Talk."

Somehow, the darkness seemed to help, masking the depth of fear they were both clearly feeling. Waiting, anticipating, it was _killing_ him.

"He told me if I didn't say yes, he would tell everyone. Tell them I... I... I want you."

His head turned towards Sam so fast Dean thought he might get whiplash, certain he was hearing things. Maybe this was all a dream.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

This was veering dangerously into 'chick flick' territory, like they should have a deep and meaningful conversation about hidden feelings, and argue back and forth all the reasons this was a monumentally **terrible** idea. But all of that wouldn't solve a damn thing, so Dean did the only thing he could do, really. He leaned over and kissed Sam.

Sam made a sort of muffled sound, clearly torn between shock and something else. Dean pulled back for a second, checking he hadn't miscalculated but Sam didn't punch him or scream or shoot him. Pushing their mouths back together, he could smell motel soap and cheap beer on Sam, taste toothpaste and confusion on his tongue.

"Ooook. Am I dreaming?"

"Not unless I am too Sammy" Dean wavered for a minute, then decided _to hell with it_ and went for broke "because I've wanted this for **years.** Literally, before you went to Stanford time."

Sam stared at him deeply for a minute, more intense in the moonlight, then he gripped fingers in Deans short blonde hair and yanked their lips back together. Sam was hesitant still, slow to let his tongue come out and explore but he made breathy little sounds in his throat that made Dean dizzy, and fingers scrabbled at the t-shirt he wore to bed, pulling it up until they had to separate.

Panting hard, Dean yanked the t-shirt off completely, then reached for Sam's because he needed skin on skin _now._ Sam let him take it off, all long limbs and smooth muscles and searing heat as they kissed again, grinding clumsily with the bedcovers between them but it was glorious, perfect and Dean couldn't stop himself thrusting, frotting and seeking friction.

"Dean" Sam gasped his name, the sound racing straight down to his cock like a homing beacon "I need you."

"Tell me Sammy, what do you need? Anything, anything little brother."

Sam pushed his hips up again desperately, then parted his legs and Dean dropped between them. Heart hammering in anticipation, Dean thrust again and Sam whined, clinging to his shoulders and wriggling beneath him.

"Less fabric, for starters."

They wrestled and tugged and growled in annoyance until the blanket was no longer impeding them, Sam's cock hot and thick and solid as it ground against Dean's own.

"I want you Dean. All of you. Always have. Please?"

Groaning with the sheer **need** filling him, Dean climbed away from Sam - he could have cried at the loss of heat and skin - and dug a hand into the side of his duffel. Bandages, antiseptic and of course - trusty tube of KY. He offered it to Sam, uncaring _how_ they did this so long as they did it.

Sam pushed it back, spreading his legs further and looking half-wild as he stared up at Dean. There was more fumbling as they shed boxers, and while Dean had seen Sam naked before - inevitable with the way they lived really - it had never been like _this._ Sam's cock was thick and flushed and just as beautiful as the rest of him, begging Dean to touch it and twitching under his gaze.

Sammy was trusting him here, and Dean was determined not to let him down. His hands shook with the expectations and desires as he clicked open the tube of lube, coating his fingers with it and finding Sam staring just as intently at him. He stopped to pinch his forearm, checking he wasn't dreaming as he wrapped one hand around Sam's cock, dropping the other down between his thighs and finding the hot, tight little muscle waiting for him.

"Might be a little uncomfortable, but I promise never to hurt you Sammy."

Sam nodded, biting his lip and closing his eyes as one finger pushed inside him, slick and slow and steady. The _heat_ was unbelievable, and he waited for some relaxing as Sam squeezed, muscles clamping tight against the intrusion. Stroking at the waning erection, Dean cooed soothingly about how much he wanted Sam, how good he was going to make him feel and some of the tension started to ease, Dean could move his finger again.

Endlessly curious about sex, especially as a teen boy, Dean knew there was something like a sweet spot around the ass somewhere, and he just had to find it. He still moved slowly so he wouldn't hurt Sam, but he shifted his finger about, pushing in and out to relax Sam further as he did so. Adding more lube, he rubbed soothing circles into the quivering thigh muscles and pushed two fingers in. Sam hissed in discomfort, but managed to pant out "keep going" when Dean thought about pulling his fingers out.

"You don't have to do this Sammy, I don't want you hurting."

"I want this Dean, it's uncomfortable but getting easier. Keep going."

Sam squeezed around him again, this time with a cheeky smirk curling at the side of his mouth and Dean took the encouragement, exploring Sam more intently until he won a sound from Sam. Not a pained one, but a sound of pleasure.

"There."

The word sounded painful, gasped out like a wounded animal but Sam was pushing back on his fingers now, seeking more as Dean found the right spot, dragging his fingers over it again and again and slowly reducing Sam to a writhing, whining pile of desperation. The waning erection was back with a vengeance, thick and flushed and leaking over Sam's stomach as he gasped and moaned.

"I'm ready Dean, please?"

"Ok Sammy, ok."

He was probably the more nervous of the two, shaking hands as he slipped his fingers free of Sam's body - and enjoying the way Sam whined with loss just a little - and applied lubricant liberally to his own pulsing cock. Moving slowly into place, he looked up at Sam, seeking permission again as they reached a point of no return. Unlike him, Sam looked at ease, relaxed except his eyes - they were burning with desire.

He had to watch, eyes fixed on the point his body joined with Sam, more intimate than anything Dean had ever experienced in his life. As he bottomed out, inside him completely, Dean had to stop, shaking with the magnitude of the moment and terrified he would come on the spot as Sam's muscles flexed around him. Sam wriggled impatiently, shifting his hips to try and encourage Dean to move, but he was still in a state of shock.

Reaching for Sam's iron-hard erection, his little brother moaned at the first touch, trembling with sensitivity beneath his fingers and Dean felt his heart constrict. Pulling back a little, Dean slid back in, heat and tight and welcoming as Sam groaned. Relaxing a tiny bit himself now he wasn't about to blow his load, Dean thrust again, revelling in every sigh and breathy sound Sam made as he rose to meet the motions.

Heat laced it's way into every nerve in his body, pleasure tightening low in his groin with every thrust, Dean was on fire with the constant feel of Sam all around him. The slow pace was maddening and couldn't sate either of them, hips moving faster and harder and their skin making guttural slapping sounds as it met again and again.

Sam's fingers gripped at his back, squeezing at the taut muscles there as he arched his back and his jaw went slack. Some broken sound that might have been his name escaped Sam's mouth, hot liquid splattering between their stomachs and Dean choked on air as Sam clenched tight around his cock, dragging any sense of control away as his hips stuttered and his cock spilled into the receptive brother beneath him.

Several minutes heavy breathing passed, then there was a tentative, almost shy kiss shared before Dean slid free of Sam's body and rolled to his side, feeling for Sam's hand in the dark and lacing their fingers together.

"So..."

"The devil has nothing on me now."

Blinking in surprise, Dean squeezed at the hand in his.

"So that's what the nightmares were about?"

Sam nodded, turning towards Dean and he automatically pulled hus brother into a hug.

"No worries then. So long as you still don't want to say yes."

"I only want to say yes here, with you. Not to Lucifer."

"Then Michael isn't getting in my meat suit. That's your job now little bro."

Sam snorted, shoulders shaking with laughter and it warmed Dean in a way he didn't realise he had needed for months now.

"Charming as ever."

"Don't think I'm gonna change just cus we fucked little bro."

He could tell Sam all about it, and they could talk and tell all about how long they had both wanted this, how much time they had wasted. Tomorrow. For now, he was going to enjoy all the octopus limbs and sweaty, hot cuddles he could get. They had a world to save together after all.

-SPN-

 **I am so out of practice writing slash stuff, so I apologise if this is terrible!**


End file.
